"It's strange, very strange, that the valet doesn't come back. If he's
not here very soon, I shall commence to suspect him of having some hand
in the affair." Then, after a pause, during which his eyes were fixed
upon the man whose face was hidden, he added, "I wonder whether, after
all, a crime has been committed?"
"That remains for you to discover," I replied. "There seems no outward
sign of such a thing. The doctor has found no mark of violence."
"True," he said shrewdly. Then, with his eyes fixed upon the carpet, he
suddenly exclaimed, "Ah! what's this?" and bending, picked up something
which he placed in the hollow of his hand, exposing it to my view.
It was a purely feminine object. A tiny pearl button from a woman's
glove.
"A lady's been here recently, that's very evident. We must find out who
she was."
"A lady!" I gasped, wondering in an instant whether Aline had called
upon him.
"The outer door is open all day, I think you said," he went on.
"Yes."
"In that case it is probable that if she came during this man Ash's
absence, nobody would see her."
"Very probably," I said. "We can only wait until Ash returns."
"But it's already half an hour since you made the discovery, and nearly
an hour since the gentleman died; yet the man has not returned," the
detective observed dubiously.
At that moment we heard a footstep on the stair, but instead of the dead
man's valet, an inspector in uniform entered. The detective briefly
explained the circumstances in a dry, business-like tone, the inspector
walked through the rooms with his hands behind his back, and after a
survey of the place, and a promise to send some men to remove the body
to the mortuary, left again.
So startling had been the discovery, and so curious the whole of the
events of that morning, that I had scarcely felt any grief at the loss
of my friend. It did not seem really true that Roddy Morgan, my very
best chum, was actually dead; cut off in a moment in the prime of his
manhood by some mysterious, but fatal, cause, which even the doctor had
not yet decided.
As the minutes passed, slowly ticked out by the clock upon the
mantel-shelf, I could not help sharing with the detective some doubts
regarding Ash. Had he absconded?
If murder had actually been committed, then robbery was not the object
of the crime, for on the writing-table were lying a couple of five-pound
notes open, without any attempt at concealment. Roddy was always a
careless fellow over money matters.
At last, at nearly half-past two, we heard the click of a key in the
latch, and there entered the man whom we had been awaiting so long.
He walked straight into the sitting-room, but when he saw us, drew back
quickly in surprise, muttering--
"I beg pardon, gentlemen."
"No, come in," the detective said, and as he obeyed his eyes fell upon
his master, reclining there with his face covered with the silk
handkerchief.
"Good heavens, sir, what's happened?" he gasped, pale in alarm.
"A very serious catastrophe," the officer answered. "Your master is
dead!"
"Dead!" he gasped, his clean-shaven face pallid in fright. "Dead! He
can't be!"
"Look for yourself," the detective said. "He expired about noon."
Ash moved forward, and raising the handkerchief with trembling fingers,
gazed upon the cold, set face of the man whom he had for years served so
faithfully and well.
"What can you tell us regarding the affair?" asked the detective, with
his dark eyes set full upon the agitated man.
"Nothing, sir. I know nothing," he answered.
"Explain what your master was doing when you left, and why you went
out."
"About eleven o'clock, when I was polishing his boots in the kitchen, he
called me," answered the man, without hesitation. "He gave me a note,
and told me to go to the departure platform of King's Cross Station, and
wait under the clock there for a youngish lady, who would wear a bunch
of white flowers in her breast. I was to ask her if she expected him,
and if so, to give her the letter. I took a cab there, waited at the
spot he indicated for two whole hours, but saw no one answering the
description; therefore I returned."
"And the note?" asked the officer.
"Here it is," answered Ash, placing his hand in his coat-pocket, and
producing a letter.
The detective took it eagerly.
"It is not addressed," he remarked in surprise. Then, tearing it open,
he took out the single sheet of note-paper.
There was no writing upon it. The paper was perfectly blank.
"This complicates matters," he said, turning to me. "The unknown lady
who had made the appointment at King's Cross evidently wished for an
answer in the affirmative or negative. This was the latter. A blank
sheet of paper, denoting that there was nothing to add."
"Extraordinary!" I ejaculated. Then addressing Ash, I asked: "When you
left your master what was he doing?"
"Sitting at the table, sir. He had his cheque-book open, for just
before I went out he gave me a cheque for my month's wages. They were
overdue a week, and I was hard up; so I asked for them."
"Did he hesitate to give you them, or did he make any remarks to lead
you to think he was financially embarrassed?" I inquired.
"Not at all, sir. He had forgotten, and added an extra sovereign
because he had kept me waiting. My master always had plenty of money,
sir."
"Do you remember him going to Monte Carlo?" I asked.
"No, sir. Once I heard him tell Captain Hamilton that he'd been there,
but it isn't since I've been employed by him."
"How long is that?"
"Nine years next May, sir."
"And have you had no holiday?"
"Of course I have, sir. Sometimes a week, sometimes a fortnight; and
last year he gave me a month."
"What time of the year was it?"
"In February. He went up to Aberdeen, and told me there was no need for
me to go, and that I could shut up the chambers and have a holiday. I
did, and went down to Norfolk to visit the friends of the girl I'm
engaged to."
"And he was gone a month?"
"Yes. A few days over a month."
"You had letters from him, I suppose?" I suggested.
"Only one, about four or five days after he had left."
"Then for aught you know he may have left Aberdeen and gone to Monte
Carlo?" I said.
"Of course he may have done, sir. But he told me nothing about it."
"Did you notice anything unusual about his manner when he came back to
town?"
"He seemed nervous; especially when I've gone in to him to announce a
lady visitor. He seemed to fear that some lady would call whom he
didn't want to see."
"But he often took ladies to the Gallery down at the House," I remarked,
for Roddy was never so happy as when escorting two or three ladies over
the House, or giving them tea on the long terrace beside the Thames. He
was essentially a lady's man.
"Yes, sir. But there was one he used to describe to me, and he told me
often that if she ever came I was to tell her that he had left London."
"What was she like?" asked the officer, pricking up his ears.
"Well," replied Ash, after some reflection, "as far as I could make out,
she was about twenty or so; very good-looking, and generally dressed in
black. Of course, I never saw her, for she never called."
The description he had given answered exactly to that of Aline. The
mystery had become more complicated than I had anticipated. The next
fact to ascertain was the cause of death.
"Why have you made these inquiries regarding Monte Carlo?" the detective
asked me. "Did he go there?"
"I believe so," I replied. "Of course, it is not proved, but I suspect
that when he went to Aberdeen he afterwards went secretly to the
Riviera."
"Why secretly?"
"Ah! that I'm unable to tell," I answered, resolved to keep the
knowledge I possessed to myself. But pointing to the card in the frame
of the mirror I explained that that was a gambling-card used only at
Monte Carlo, and that the figures were in my friend's handwriting.
The officer took it down interestedly, carefully scrutinised it, asked
several questions regarding it, and then replaced it in the position it
had occupied.
All three of us went to the writing-table, and the officer quickly
discovered the cheque-book. Opening it he found by the counterfoil that
what Ash had said about his cheque for wages was correct, but, further,
that another cheque had been torn out after his, and that the
counterfoil remained blank.
"This is suspicious," the detective observed quickly. "It looks very
much as if there's been a robbery. We must stop the cheque at the
bank," and he scribbled down the number of the counterfoil.
"If a robbery has been committed, then my friend has been murdered," I
said.
"That's more than likely," replied the officer. "The story Ash tells us
is certainly remarkable, and increases the mystery. If we can find this
lady who made the appointment at King's Cross, we should no doubt learn
something which might throw some light on the affair. Personally, I am
inclined to disbelieve the theory that death has been due to natural
causes. In view of the facts before us, either suicide or murder seem
much more feasible theories. Yet we must remember that a man who would
deliberately send his man out before committing suicide would also
fasten the door. You found it open."
This circumstance had not before occurred to me. Yes, a man who
intended to take his own life would not have left the door open.
Ash, hearing our argument, at once declared that he had closed the door
when he had gone out. Therefore, it seemed proved that Roddy had
received a visitor during the absence of his valet.